


Journey to Now

by knittersrevolt



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Pre-Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., SciTech Academy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-14
Updated: 2014-05-18
Packaged: 2018-01-24 17:21:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1613165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knittersrevolt/pseuds/knittersrevolt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Did you know that Fitz didn't even like Simmons when he first met her? Do you know why Simmons eats pancakes when she's upset? Their first semester at SciTech shapes who FitzSimmons are all the way to the BUS.</p>
<p>AKA: Welcome to my Headcannon</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Always to the Left

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in FitzSimmons' first year at SciTech. I've made them 17, so going by the age of the actors it's set in 2005. Enjoy!

    S.H.I.E.L.D SciTech Academy was by far and away the coolest place Fitz had ever been in his entire life. It was filled with technology the general public wasn’t going to have for a generation. God, was he ever glad he went into engineering as a field. Fitz’s chest was filled with complete with excitement. He was one of the youngest candidates to ever get accepted into the program, and he was determined to be the youngest one to ever graduate from the academy.

“Leopold Fitz?”

“Me! That’s-uh-that’s me. I am Leopold Fitz. At your service, Ma’am.” He extended his hand out to Agent Weaver who took it with a smile.

“Don’t look so nervous.”

She placed a hand on his back and lead him through the hallways. “I’m sure you’re aware that it’s not every day I show a student around the facilities, but then I don’t think I’ve ever had an actual child on campus before today.”

“I’m 17.” Fitz said reflexively, “I know that I’m still technically a child, but I do have a PhD, and I-”

“Yes, Mr. Fitz, I am aware of your accomplishments. I am the one who picked your resume out of a stack and invited you to join us.”

“Yes, right, sorry. This is just an absolute dream come true. When all the other kids were talking about wanting to be James Bond all I wanted to be was Q. To be allowed into the tech home of the Men in Black is just such a privilege, I can’t thank you enough for the opportunity to learn here.”

He was gushing, he knew it, but she was walking him past the places where the next generation of Tony Starks were learning their way around A.I. motherboards. God it was such a rush.

“I’m here! I’m here!” A girl who couldn’t be any older than himself was running down the hallway toward him. He scoffed and rolled his eyes. She was an absolute mess, a gorgeous mess, but a mess none the less. Fitz valued organization, and there was no surer sign of disorganization than a lack of punctuality.

“My deepest apologies, Ma’am,” The girl gasped the words out in between heaving breaths. “My plane took off late and then my Mother could not find her way here even with the GPS unit provided for us. But now I’m here.” The girl treated Agent Weaver to the widest smile Fitz had ever seen. “Your youngest recruit to date has now arrived.”

“I’m the youngest recruit to date, actually.” Fitz couldn’t help but correct her.

“No,” Weaver grinned, “she’s actually three days younger than you are.”

The girl smiled again, “And I will also be the youngest person to graduate from S.H.I.E.L.D.”

Leo was left sputtering as the girls continued on their tour. Leo did not know who this girl was, but he was determined that she was not going to take his title away from him. Not if he could help it. She even looked like a suck-up. Fitz was wearing a comfortable pair of jeans and a button down underneath his sweater. She was wearing very tight pants and a button down under a sweater, but hers was all tight and stuffy looking.

“My first PhD dissertation was about voltage-gated potassium channels tested using dendrotoxins. I’ve heard that you have a lab containing the most extensive collection of dendrotoxin producing animals in the world. Is that correct?” 

The girl was practically bouncing on her feet. It figured she’d be a biochemist. It was practically a social science. No one could predict how any one human would respond to any drug, but his designs worked the first time, every time.

“You’ve done your homework. Yes, Ms. Simmons, we do have a bit of a zoo of venomous creatures here.”

“Of course I’ve done my homework! I always do everything assigned to me, if not more.”

“I heard that you have a partnership with Stark so that you can have access to his R&D division.” Fitz interjected. She wasn’t the only one who’d read about S.H.I.E.L.D. He’d read every book on the subject he could find since he’d gone off to university when he was 12. Hell, at that point he could probably write his own book on the history if he was so inclined.

“We do work with Mr. Stark, but I assure you, he wishes he had our research and development team all to himself. You’ll find that most cadets who don’t make it into the ranks of S.H.I.E.L.D will end up working under Mr. Stark.”

“Yeah,” the girl scoffed, “if they want to make weapons.” She gave Fitz a conspiratorial smile and a bump on the arm. He backed away from her overwhelming presence.

“Can we maybe see the dorms?” Fitz did not like people in general, and he’d been surrounded by them all day.

“Of course! My apologies, I’m sure both of you are ready to get settled. The admissions board debated on letting such young recruits in, so you two are a little behind the curve. The other students have already moved in.”

She lead them out of the main building and through the sunshine over to a tall building. On the fourth floor the three of them stepped out of the glass elevator. A few people were chatting in the halls, but it was pretty empty. 

“Here we are.” Agent Weaver stopped in the hall and waited. 

“Is this a Men’s hall or a Women’s?” Fitz asked. He was hoping his journey ended there.

“Both. 412 is your room, 413 belongs to you, Ms. Simmons.”

“Across the hall from each other!” Simmons said in wonder. “We’re practically roommates!”

“Excellent. Just excellent.” Fitz whispered under his breath.

 

********************************************************************************************************** 

 

Fitz was not going to think about the girl across the hall. Not while he was brushing his teeth, or picking out his clothes before making his way to his very first class at SciTech Academy. Nope. Not. At. All. She was never going to take his title away from him so there is no reason she should be walking through his mind at all. There wasn’t even a chance that the reason he hadn’t been able to sleep all night was because he’d been googling his rival. He arrived at Professor Vaughn’s lecture on the History of S.H.I.E.L.D 601 to find a large gathering of students milling around.

“Fitz! Fitz!” The girl was front and center, exactly where he liked to sit in a lecture hall, and she was waving enthusiastically at him. “I saved you a seat!”

The clearly inferior seat she’d saved him was to the left of center. He’d spend the entire lecture leaning to one side. God that would be annoying. He knew what she was doing, of course. It was classic warfare. Know Thy Enemy. Well two could play that game. 

“Thanks! If I could pick any seat in the house, this is the one I’d want!”

“Excellent!” She moved her backpack out of the way. “I actually prefer that seat, center draws too much attention for my liking, but I thought it might be a bit rude of me to take it for myself.”

Right, like he was about to fall for that line of B.S.

“Are you excited? I’m so excited.” She looked it. Simmons was squirming in her seat. “I can’t wait to get started. Can you imagine that in just a few years we’ll have the title of Agent? Oh! I’m sorry I’ve been calling you Fitz, but I didn’t catch your first name.”

“Yeah, Weaver doesn’t seem like the type to use first names.” Does this girl ever shut up? “I’m not fond of my first name anyway. Fitz will suit just fine.”

“Well I’m Jemma.”

Thank God the class began. He was ecstatic to be taking his first class for about three minutes. Then he realized that Professor Vaughn was the single most boring human on Earth. He also kept the class at a slightly too warm temperature. The hours he’d spent awake the night before caught up with him and his eyes slipped shut to the sound of Jemma furiously taking notes next to him. He didn’t wake up until Jemma shook him as the class filed out.

“You slept through an entire lecture.” She whispered it, like he’d murdered someone’s dog.

“Did he go over anything that wasn’t in the handbook or in Peggy Carter’s  The Start of the Strategic Homeland Intervention and Enforcement Logistics Division? ”

She looked through her notes, “Well no bu-”

“Then there’s nothing to worry about, is there?”

“But I saw Professor Vaughn look right at you. It could mean big trouble if he thinks you aren’t taking his class seriously.”

“Thanks for the concern,” he said while packing up his things, “but I’m sure it’ll be fine. Off to Engineering. Ta!”

The Engineering Research and Development wing was beautiful. They had every toy imaginable. The Uni he’d been to before had been great and all, but they’d scrimped on the robotics budget. This was Stark Tech. The man who’d built the first true A.I. robots donated all of his misfit toys to this facility. Fitz was glad he’d had the nap during history. This course took all of his mind. Everyone in the room had at least a PhD, so there wasn’t any fluff. Undergraduate had been filled with morons who worked hard enough to get passable grades. This was a land of geniuses, people who were on his intellectual level for once. When Professor Green made a joke about an erg being a dying centimeter he wasn’t the only person in the room who laughed. He was going to love it here.

 

+++ Two years later Fitz would reveal to Simmons that he hated sitting in that seat. They had a long laugh together, then Simmons picked up her things and scooted one seat down so that Fitz could be in the center, still to her left. It was because of that seat that day that Fitz always stood to Jemma’s left. That was where he belonged, after all. 

 


	2. Inside the box is the TARDIS

Fitz was not ready for class to end. Going back to his sad little dorm room where he was promptly sexiled by his obnoxiously southern American dorm mate had not made for a good night on Monday… or Tuesday. Now that it was Wednesday Fritz was hoping Robbie was fresh out of stamina and did not have that stupid sock on the door. It was both annoying and completely unsanitary. Who puts a bloody sock on a doorknob? People have to touch that thing.

“What The Hell?!” This time it wasn’t even a sock. It was the underwear of whatever twat was in Fitz’s room right at that moment. He was going to have to Lysol every surface in the whole God damned place. Fitz only huffed for a minute before settling in for the wait. Robbie was starting early that night, maybe Fitz would get to see the inside of the room before midnight. Most of the time he went to the common room, but he was determined not to spend another night on that awful couch. It was probably just as diseased as those pants on the door. He fired up his laptop and started watching a video.

“Oh my God!” Of course. If Fitz was having a bad moment Simmons was sure not to be far behind.

“Is that Doctor Who?” She invited herself to look at his screen. “It is! I thought I heard the theme. I never thought I could be homesick for a show before. Why are you watching it in the hallway?”

At that precise moment Robbie’s female guest let out a weird screeching sound that echoed against the doors in the hall.

“Ah.” Simmons said knowingly. “Well, if you’re willing to share your Tom Baker with me, I’d be willing to share my futon. My roomy is a 26 year old recent divorcee. She spends even more time in the library than I do.” Simmons opened the door and looked at him. “Well come on then."

Oh, she was good. She was very good at playing a long slow game. First she invites him in for some shows, then she’d start encouraging him to blow off homework. The final step would be getting him hooked on alcohol or drugs no doubt. He took a long moment’s hesitation before giving in. The floor was very hard, and Fitz prided himself on having more than enough willpower to overcome whatever she would throw at him. He followed her into her tiny room.

“What do you think of the new series? Do you think Christopher Eccleston will go down in history as the best Doctor of all time? I’ve heard that a lot of people are saying that.”

“No!” He gasped. Then he coughed and straightened himself up a bit. “I mean no, I personally don’t think so.”

“It’s true! I can’t decide if I’m horrified or excited by the prospect of who will be next.” She carefully laid her sweater across the back of her computer chair. The futon in her room was more comfortable than he’d expected. When he scooted himself all the way back in it, his feet didn’t even touch the ground. He was marveling at being able to swing his legs when she turned back around. With the sweater off she was wearing just a tank top. She pulled on a cardigan before she sat down next to him, but the damage was done. Fitz was now acutely aware of just how female Simmons was. He’d been aware of her gender, but in a sort of abstract sense. Now he was thinking about how her body curved. It was not something he should be thinking of.

“No matter. Tom Baker will always be my Doctor, no matter how many there are to come.” She smiled at him while attaching cables to get the show to play on her T.V. screen. Fitz spent the hour trying valiantly not to notice how her legs extended forever out of her shorts.

“Can we watch another?” She asked politely when it ended. “I do love Sarah Jane Smith too.”

“Go right ahead.” Fitz plan was crashing and burning. Simmons was fit. And she was watching Doctor Who with him. Suddenly he was calling into question all of his life choices.

She squeezed his knee. “Thanks. This is the first time I’ve been away from my Mum, and I was afraid I wouldn’t make any friends.”

“Well any fan of Tom Baker is a friend of mine.” He made a plan during the next episode. Clearly this was all a ploy. She was trying to lull him into a false sense of security. She’d pretend to be his friend then use her feminine wiles to seduce him. He’d never get any studying done and flunk his classes. After he got kicked out she’d laugh in his face while receiving a placard for being the youngest graduate in the history of the academy. Well, the joke was on her because he’d figured it out.

“Thanks for letting me stay, but I best be getting back to my room.” He was out the door with his computer before she could protest.

“Alright then. Do you have Advanced Integrated Fields in the morning?”

“I think so, why?”

“I’ll save you a seat!” She said cheerily.

“Not if I get there first.” He said with a fake cheer in his voice. She looked puzzled. “Goodnight.”

Happily Robbie’s fling had taken her pants with her when she left. Fitz opened the door using his sleeve and found his room blissfully empty. His dreams were filled with Simmons taking off more than her sweater.

 

**************************************************************************************************

 

What the Hell was the only thing Fitz could think when he double checked his schedule in the morning. A.I.F. was being taught by boring Professor Vaughn in the exact same lecture hall he’d now slept in twice. Fitz could only hope that somehow he’d turn into a better teacher if the topic was more exciting. The lecture hall was still too warm and Simmons was saving him that same damn seat even though he’d shown up 20 minutes early.

“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to Advanced Integrated Fields, know as A.I.F. This has been described by many graduates as the ‘make it or break it’ class. Either you can bring more than one field of science into your research, or you can’t. We are not interested in students who can only operate within one small window of study. All of you have a PhD in something or another. I don’t care. I don’t care what little thing you studied, because let me assure you that all doctorates are earned in very tiny specified fields. This will not be like the History class I teach earlier in the week.”

Fitz heaved a sigh of relief.

“In that class your grade depends on exams. This course is about projects. The first one will be your choice of topics. You may do anything you like. Design something, research something. Bring me something to test or read. You will be put into groups based on what you create.”

Thoughts of the assignment were the only thing that kept him awake through that lecture. As Vaughn prattled on about the importance of different branches of math and science working together Fitz began sketching. If he really wanted to graduate early he’d have to blow everyone else out of the water. From the corner of his eye he could see Simmons still taking notes like a good little soldier. She wasn’t even doodling. How could she stand that man’s voice was beyond him.

He was so engrossed in his thoughts coming back from class that he didn’t look at the door before he reached his hand out.

“Son of a Bitch!” He stared at his hand in horror. He’d touched the panties of one of Robbie’s conquests.

“Oh dear.” Simmons tsked behind him. “I have hand sanitizer.”

“Is it a bucket that I can submerge my hand into? Because if not I’m afraid I’ll NEVER FEEL CLEAN AGAIN!” He shouted at the door. “I HOPE SHE’S GIVING YOU AN STD!”

“If she’s giving him an STD, wouldn’t that mean you have the same virus on your hand?” Simmons was giving his fingers a disgusted look.

“Ah Christ.”

She ushered him into her room and didn’t say a word when he washed his hands after every episode of Doctor Who they watched that night.

 

++++ Long after FitzSimmons had moved off campus they would watch Doctor Who after a long day. After a while, for Simmons, the sight of the TARDIS would be synonymous with home, comfort, and Fitz. If Simmons was ever trapped on an island, those are the things she’d want with her. That’s why when asked, she said the TARDIS was in the box. That, and it would be so cool to be able to travel anywhere in time or space with Fitz by her side.


	3. Falling Asleep is Valid

Fridays were the most ridiculous part of life at the academy. It was the one day a week they had to do field training. Fitz had been terrified to hear of it. He’d never been what anybody could call an athlete, and he never wanted to work out in the field anyway, so why did he have to huff and puff his way down a damned track? The one thing he hadn’t been counting on, but was quite welcome, was the fact that there was an entire class full of agent-to-bes huffing along with him. There were a few who could run a mile in 5 flat, but they were the minority. It was kind of lovely running with all of the kids who were picked last for football.

He was pretty proud of his 10 minute mile. Simmons was still plodding along holding onto her side. “If I wanted to jog I would have enrolled at bloody Operations!” He could hear her yelling at the instructors who stood like guards at a prison along the sidelines. “My God!”

It took her a good three minutes to make it all the way to his side. He would have felt smug about it if he’d been able to catch his breath in the mean time.

“Gods, I have the worst stitch in my side.” She whined. “I could have sworn I was in better shape than this. Apparently spending two years inside a laboratory did not help my cardio endurance.”

“Look on the bright side,” Fitz pointed back at the track, “At least you’re not that guy.”

A positively rotund man was walking; less than half the track was behind him. He was red faced and had tracks of sweat dripping down his face onto his t-shirt.

“Fitz!” Simmons admonished. “It’s not polite to point or stare. That man is making a real effort. Shame on you for that.”

“What did I do? It’s not like I said anything bad about him.”

She gave him a hard stare, “Well you didn’t mean anything nice by it either.”

As she stalked off to get cleaned up Fitz was left bewildered. She acted like she was his Mum or something. Telling him to be nice. Who did she think she was? Phase two of her plan was to make him think he was a bad person so he’d become horribly depressed and quit school since he couldn’t get out of bed. It was the last straw. He positively had to stop hanging around with Jemma Simmons. She was a bad influence. He wasn’t getting his homework done since he was spending his free time watching Doctor Who with her, and he was falling asleep in lectures because he had to lean to the right to get back to center.

Later that night when he was unceremoniously kicked out of his room yet again he went to the library instead of to the futon across the way. It took Simmons exactly 49 minutes to find him there.

“There you are!” She said it like she was a search party in the Alps. She sat down at his table as if there was a 'Simmons' nametag sitting there. “Are you doing research for the project due on Thursday for Professor Vaughn? I’ve had so many ideas running through my brain I can hardly get one to hold still long enough to start on it.”

“Hmm.”  Do not engage. One syllable responses until she takes the hint and goes away.

“Right, well if you have a free moment, have you ever seen the show Firefly?”

“Of course I have! It’s one of the most brilliant shows ever created!”  Damn! Don’t let her suck you in!

“Well, the movie Serenity comes out tonight. I heard some people talking about going so I reserved a couple of tickets. I thought Anna would want to go with me but she’s having a row with her ex again. Do you want the extra seat?”

He would just have to resolve to stop speaking to her on Monday.

 

The movie was good. Beyond good. He’d laughed, he’d successfully not cried when Wash died (even though it was a close thing), and he’d cheered with the Browncoats when the door had opened revealing River glistening with blood in the light. He had no regrets. The film had left him swimming in ideas. 

In the opening scene when Simon Tam had set off that grenade that appeared to internally decapitate all of the men, whatever it was, Fitz knew instantly that he could recreate the device. The easy part was fitting the device with springs so that when it was tapped against the floor it would rebound to the correct height. Going based strictly on statistics men were more likely to be violent combatants. The average male height in the States stood at 179.8 cm, approximately, and the device had ‘exploded’ in the middle of the face, or at maybe 171 cm of height.

The more complicated part of the build, the part he was really proud of, was the actual explosion itself. He created a disk that could send out a shock wave. It was proceeded by a wave of blue light purely to retain the theatrical aspect from the movie. He modified it so that his shock wave wouldn’t kill anyone, barring unforeseen medical complications such as an undiagnosed aneurysm. 

By spending all of his time working on the specs for the mechanism he succeeded in not talking to Simmons at all outside of classes until Thursday came around. Fitz proudly set down his device on the desk of the seat of uncomfortable-off-centered-ness. Simmons was already there looking proud as a peacock next to her own contraption. Professor Vaughn called every student up alphabetically to show off what they had created. After every presentation they clapped politely. After a woman with the last name Fitsgerald showed off her research paper Fitz waited for his name, but it wasn’t called. Vaughn skipped right over him. 

Fitz looked around, confused. Simmons gave him a weak shrug in response to the question in his eyes. No matter. He’d wait to the end of class and present to just the Professor if necessary. An hour later Vaughn skipped right from Sillsby to Sinton. Fitz could practically feel the panic rolling off of the girl next to him. Her breathing picked up to an unnatural pace. Even if she was evil he couldn’t let her just panic like that. He grabbed her hand. She gave him a look of pure terror. He breathed in and out exaggeratedly. She caught on and began breathing with him. It was possible that the Professor was just saving the best for last.

“You may have noticed that I chose not to call on our two youngest recruits today.” All three hundred eyes in the stadium seats turned to look down at their two seats in the front row. “Allow me to explain. I was on the committee convened to determine if we should let such young children into our fold. I voted No.”

Vaughn said it looking them dead in the eye.

“I gave it careful consideration. Young minds are still developing. They tend to have trouble thinking abstractly. This lead me to believe that they would not be good candidates for this program. For example, I suggested that students so young would chose to create designs based on things they have seen before. Tell me, Mr. Fitz, Ms. Simmons, did either of you create a project that was perhaps introduced in a movie or T.V. Show?”

All of the breath left Fitz’s body. At the same time he could hear it whoosh out of Jemma.

“Yes.””Yes.” They answered in unison. 

“Well then. Tell me Mr. Fitz, all about this… thing. Where does it come from.

“Serenity, Sir. It’s kind of like an EMP, but for human brains.” He couldn’t help but say it very quietly.

“I explicitly told this class to bring me something we could test. Do you expect me to test that out on your colleagues?”

“No, Sir.” Fitz whispered.

“And as for you, Ms. Simmons.” Tears slid down her cheeks. “Were you inspired by Serenity too?”

“Star Trek.” She whimpered out.

The man had the nerve to guffaw in her face. “Do you think there is a single thing from that show I have not seen students re-create a thousand times?” He sneered down at her.

“Class, based on what I have seen today you will be put into groups. These groups will be interdisciplinary. Physicists working with Chemical Engineers, so on and so forth. By the end of the semester you must present us with an  original working concept that can be applied in the field for S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. The prize for the best design is that you get to skip Semester 2 of this class. Your teams will be posted on the door on Monday. Except for you two,” he pointed between Fitz and Simmons. “I won’t subject any of the other students to this pair. You will have to work together. Class dismissed.”

 

+++++ 2 years later when he had graduated and his device was standard issue for all infiltration teams Fitz swore that he ever got a chance to make fun of Vaughn in his own classroom, he would take it.


	4. Pancakes

Simmons  ran out of the auditorium as soon as Vaughn finished “dismissed”. Fitz was still a little frozen in his seat. He wasn’t expecting such an unmitigated disaster.

“Don’t worry about it too much.” A girl with a streak of pink hair hanging down from a mop of black curls said from behind him. “Every year he picks one group to be his bitch group. I you can make it through one semester he’ll back off and choose a new one. I mean, last year’s group had two quitters and a suicide, but it’s only two months of shit and you’ll be home free.”

The smile she gave him was probably supposed to be reassuring. It came off kind of predatory. Fitz took his time slinking back to his dorm room. The door to Simmons’ room was wide open, letting the sounds of her sobs pour out. He knocked on the door frame. She didn’t respond.

“Hey, Jemma. Want to watch some Doctor Who?” He looked down at her. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m packing.” She stopped folding her clothes into her suitcase to cry into her hands.

“Come on now, it’s not that bad.” He patted her awkwardly on the shoulder.

“It is that bad Fitz!” She shoved his hand off and went back to her task. “I have never failed an assignment in my life. Not one. Not only did I fail, miserably, at the first real task, but he’s also got it out for us. You know he’s going to fail our end of semester project too.”

“Actually I heard that it’s a peer review process. The highest score wins regardless of Vaughn.”

“You think after that humiliation we can still do well? No, thanks. I don’t like it in The States, I live in this tiny dorm so I can’t even cook, I have no friends-”

“I’m your friend.” Fitz said weakly.

She huffed, “I know you don’t like me. You avoid me if you can. You only tolerate me so you don’t have to sit on the floor while you watch your shows.” 

She could not have looked more defeated. She was curled in on herself, her frame drowning in the huge sweater she had on.

“I’m just shit with people. Just give it one more week. Let me take you out for a night of fun, we’ll have a few laughs.” He caught her interest a little bit. “You might not have failed before, but I’ve failed loads of times. Let me show you how to do it right. Plus, if you leave, I’m going to have to be my own team.”

Simmons stared down at the floor. She shakily got to her feet. “One week. And I’m not unpacking.”

Fitz threw an arm around her shoulders and lead her out. Fitz could see Robbie walking down the hallway toward him. The man was ridiculous. He wore black rimmed glasses that didn’t even have prescription lenses and a scarf even though it was 25 C outside. His hand was inside the back pocket of some girl’s jeans.

“Hey, I hear you got chosen to be Vaughn’s bitch of the week. Tough break. Are you headed to the Boiler Room? Drink your woes away?”

“What’s the boiler room?”

 

The Boiler Room was exactly what Fitz needed that night. It was loud and boisterous and they didn’t give two shits that they were underage. The man behind the bar was a T.A. for Fitz’s engineering class. He gave his condolences for what happened and didn’t make Fitz pay for the two pints he brought back to the tiny table he left Simmons standing at. He knew gossip traveled fast, but he didn’t know the whole crowd could pick them out. 

“Here we are. A good stout to make everything better.”

“Fitz.” She sighed. “We’re underage. I don’t think breaking rules and getting arrested for being intoxicated is going to make me feel better.”

“Who’s going to get arrested? Look at Sarah. She’s 19 and she’s flat wasted over there.” She had her knees on a chair with her entire torso draped over a table. If she wasn’t blinking he’d think she was dead.

Simmons sighed again, but she took a long drink from the pint he gave her. They spent the next 20 minutes just sitting and watching their classmates act like monkeys around them. Well, not monkeys exactly. That would have been much cooler.

“I keep trying to not think about it,” she said slowly, “but then I do. It was so stupid. I can’t believe I did that. Star Trek. God.” She shook her head.

“Oh please, there were at least two medical scanners that were straight from Bones on The Original Series. We weren’t the only ones. Now, step one of failure, drinks. Accomplished.” He clinked his glass on hers. “Step two. Stop thinking about it. The sooner you can do that the sooner it fades away.”

“What’s step three?”

“Do it better next time.”

She took another long drink, “When did you gain all of this expertise in failing?”

“Ah,” He took in a deep lungful, “I have an older brother, Sean. He’s better at everything in the world than I am, except engineering, I’m the best at that. It doesn’t matter about the engineering though, Mum doesn’t really get it. She knows how to cheer for football or running a race. Not quite as sure about what to do at a science competition.” Fitz shrugged. “That’s pretty normal.”

“What about your Dad?” This was far from his favorite line of conversation, but at least she wasn’t staring into her drink like she was thinking of drowning in it.

“He’s not around. He calls Sean from time to time, but not me. Sean asks me about the calls, he says that Da asks about me, says he misses me, but he hasn’t spoken to me in 5 years.”

Simmons was full of that look of pity people got every time he had this conversation. Simmons downed her pint and smacked the glass down on the table. “Here you are trying to make me feel better when Vaughn was worse to you than he was to me. That’s it, no more depressing conversations for the rest of the night. We are going to have some fun!”

It turned out the two of them weren’t very good at having fun, at least not the kind of fun the crowd around them was having. They just sat at the table and talked about their shows and their degrees. Simmons explained all about potassium ion channels like she believed they really were awesome. Fitz told her about how fixing things with his bare hands made him feel good deep in his bones. Three hours and more pints than he cared to think about later Fitz was ready to believe that Simmons might not be an enemy. She was just a lonely girl looking to get back to her family as quick as possible.

“-no really! I swear! There’s a bottle up his backside so far we can’t even see it and he’s saying that he accidentally sat on it! Sat on it! Who gets six inches of glass up their anus without noticing!”

Fitz was giggling. There was no other word for it. Jemma was the funniest drunk on the planet. He was also a little terrified to realize she might actually be smarter while shit-faced. There was a napkin with the entire Krebs' cycle on the table as proof.

“And then! And then there was a girl who came in and asked for a pregnancy test because she’d learned pollen was tree sperm and she’d just been to an orchard!”

“NO!”

“Yes! Hand to God. She looked so worried.”

Fitz rested his head on his fist. It was getting heavy holding it up on his own. It had to be at least 3 in the morning. Almost all the rest of the people had long since cleared out.

“Do you miss it?”

“Volunteering at the surgery? God no. It’s all children with sniffles or tummy aches. It just wasn’t real work. I do miss England though. And I really do miss cooking. Gods I’m hungry. Are you hungry? We should get food.”

A light bulb lit up in Fitz’s head. “I have a much better idea. We need to start acclimating. We need an American breakfast.” When he tried to stand he wobbled too much to recover. Simmons laughed at him and helped him up to his feet.

First they made their way to a store across the street. Despite the late hour they were still able to find everything they needed.

“What is it with Americans and cereal? There was an entire aisle of it. A whole aisle, Fitz!”

“I know, now shush! This is a covert operation!”

“Right, covert.”

The door to the chemistry lab Fitz had picked the lock on creaked wildly when they opened it. He gave Simmons the bags of groceries and began collecting what he needed. He found two hotplates and metal sheets in the supply room. He set the metal plates on top of the hotplates.

“Have you ever actually made pancakes this way before?” Jemma asked him, giggling as he tried to level the plates.

“We’re making them from a box so we know that’ll work, and as long as the griddle gets hot enough, the bacon will cook just fine.”

“My mother would die if she knew I was eating pancakes for breakfast.” Jemma had that scandalized sound to her voice again.

“With maple syrup no less.”

Just as he had hoped, the pancakes fluffed up and the bacon sizzled away. They drenched the whole thing in syrup and groaned as they ate away.

“This. This is exactly what I wanted.” Jemma moaned.

Just as he stuffed a huge bite into his mouth Fitz heard the door to the lab creak open again. The students who walked in looked between them and the griddle. Fitz snuck a look at the clock on the wall. It was 6 o’clock. They were the first class of the morning. Jemma was frozen in horror. Fitz swallowed his mouthful.

“Would you like some pancakes?”

Jemma laughed so hard she spit bacon on him.

 

++++ When their world was falling apart Jemma knew there was only one food that could make everyone feel better.


End file.
